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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23056279">bury anchors in our ghosts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/constanted/pseuds/constanted'>constanted</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>C2E98 Spoilers, Ficlet, Kirby's Fucking Pissed, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Pining, Will Be Jossed In Five Days!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:46:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,173</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23056279</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/constanted/pseuds/constanted</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Revivify is a casting that requires a simultaneous sort of panic and tranquility. And he’s not very good at panic, and he’s never felt less tranquil in his entire life. So this is a lot.</p><p>(or: the repeated image of the lover, destroyed.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Caduceus Clay/Fjord</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>321</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>bury anchors in our ghosts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>writing a revivify scene that will get jossed in a week and yelling out "caduceus is gay and sad" into the void is maybe the best possible summary of my involvement in Being A Critical Role Fan.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He knows the ways others cast <em> Revivify</em>; knows how it sounds in Corrin’s smooth Giant and in Jester’s warm Infernal; it’s a casting that requires a simultaneous sort of panic and tranquility. And he’s not very good at panic, and he’s never felt less tranquil in his entire life. So this is a lot.</p><p>He watches his radiant insects, tiny glowing parts of his soul, devour already-dead flesh, (good); sees Yasha start to breathe slower and calmer--her rage softening as his rises. His hands shake as the diamond starts to glow, and he starts to whisper in Elvish. It is an offering--just like the ritual he never <em> wants </em>to have to try, the dead cannot come back without something being given in return.</p><p>So he gives the Wildmother a secret. One he’s danced around with her in prayers, sure, but never said so clearly, not even to himself. The storm’s wind turns warm; an embrace.</p><p>And he sees Beau’s mouth open, just a moment, a look of understanding, (and a pang of fear, for Caduceus,) as the diamond shatters, dust sea-green and spiraling into the left side of Fjord’s bare, bleeding chest.</p><p>A sharp inhale. Caduceus starts healing Fjord immediately, watching the wounds seal up with soft, violet petals. “Breathe,” he says, words more strained than he would hope--he’d been attributing his eyes stinging to the rain, but--no, he is crying. <em> Unfortunate</em>, he thinks, and then, like a reflex, he drops to his knees and wraps his arms around Fjord. “Breathe,” he tells Fjord again, and wishes he could follow his own advice. “Breathe, and never do that again.”</p><p>“Hi, Caduceus,” very soft, confused. “I--Fuck. Are they--”</p><p>“They’re dead, we--we killed them all. They’re dead. And--they’re <em> dead</em>. We made sure they were dead. And you’re okay. Breathe.”</p><p>Jester runs over, says, “Orly’s okay,” with tears still in her voice, and she's such a fast runner, how in the <em>world, </em>and Caduceus can’t look at her, has to look at Fjord in case. In case of something. In case the chest reopens and that monster kills Fjord, in case the magic decides it no longer wants to work. But he says, “Good,” and then, “Thank you,” and then, “I can--”</p><p>“He’s--oh my gosh, Fjord, are you--”</p><p>“They’re gone?” Fjord asks.</p><p>“I impaled one on the front of the ship,” Yasha says, in her very good and scary way. “As a warning.”</p><p>“Fucking <em> hell</em>, Yasha!” And Fjord coughs; a little bit of blood escapes. Soaks through Caduceus’ nightshirt.</p><p>Beau has joined Caduceus in holding Fjord--Caduceus doesn’t know when she joined, but, well. He’s glad for it. Fjord is about to fall over, anyway. “Don’t <em> fucking </em>do that again, Fjord,” Beau snaps, fondness leaking through. She’s as hoarse as the rest of them, as scared. She’s shaking, too. Caduceus is grateful.</p><p>“Do what again?” Fjord teases, winces a bit. “Get stabbed?”</p><p>“You <em> died </em> , Fjord,” Caduceus snaps, angrier than he intends; he keeps being so much angrier than he intents, but intent is almost never reality. He knows this. He breathes, tries to restate. “You were <em> dead</em>. It--it <em> killed you</em>.”</p><p>No, he still sounds angry. And he is.</p><p>“Uh, Ducey, are you gonna drop the bugs?” Veth asks. “Or are you suddenly just doing a 180 on the whole <em> revenge-is-wrong-and-immoral-and-bad </em>thing? ‘Cuz you were lookin’, uh, pretty vengeance-y out there.”</p><p>“Super insanely strong necrotic attacks,” Jester nods, sniffles, “It was--<em> it was so cool</em>, but it was scary, also. And also, be <em> nice</em>.”</p><p>He drops the <em> Spirit Guardians, </em>and he doesn’t say anything. Looks at Beau. And in Elvish, she says, “<em>Morals get tough when feelings get involved,” </em> mispronouncing a few words. <em> “If you want to be, uh-- </em> bitchy,” the last word said in Common, and then back to Elvish, <em> “about this kinda thing, I, um,” </em>back to Common again, “Yeah.”</p><p>“Might take you up on that,” he whispers, “And, um. Also help you with your pronunciations. Unless that’s how Empire elves talk.”</p><p>“It’s how Dairon talks,” Beau shrugs. And then she says, “Um.” And backs away from Fjord, keeping both hands on one shoulder. Caduceus mirrors the action. Fjord blinks at the both of them. Looks at Caduceus, “I--in the morning. We should <em> Commune,</em> I think. If that’s okay with you.”</p><p>“I’d, um. Be happy to,” and then, a surge of panic in seeing Fjord’s chest still injured quite a bit, he casts a quick <em> Cure Wounds</em>. “I hate that this keeps happening, middle of the night and open chest wounds and, uh. Uk’otoa--”</p><p>Jester, Caleb, Veth, Beau, and Yasha all echo it. Marius and Orly do not. Fjord snorts.</p><p>“--Stuff. You need to, um--there are better ways to start a conversation with me, you know,” and that’s fun, he thinks, that’s casual. A little bit flirtatious, maybe too much so. But he’s said it. And he is feeling a little less angry and a little more relieved, now.</p><p>Beau tilts her head, and Fjord explains, “Um. The night, with the sword. In the lava.  Um. I… may have woken Caduceus up while I was bleeding out?”</p><p>“And he was using his real voice, and it was--big night. Like this. Um. I’m going to--I’m going to go make tea.” He stands up, keeps his hands on Fjord’s shoulders. “Tea would be--Orly, do you need any extra healing?”</p><p>“Nah,” he drawls, “I got it all handled, chef,” and that’s nice, to be called <em> chef </em>.</p><p>“Okay, um. Okay, I’m going to--Tea.”</p><p>He <em> Decomposes </em> a dead fish-person--not that there’s much flesh left, what with the beetles, but it’s enough to get some fungus and some flowers, enough to make a good brew for the ship. And he picks it, and wanders back to the kitchen, and--</p><p>Beau is following him. Delightful. He can’t focus on that, all he can focus on is <em> Fjord-Died-Fjord-Died-Fjord-Died </em> , and he doesn’t need to process that in front of the others, and Beau is probably going through the same thought process but in a more intellectual way, because Beau is the smartest person Caduceus knows, probably, and she gives out so much more love than he has ever been willing to give. Here is Fjord, bleeding out, his old sword--that <em> thing </em>’s influence, in his chest. Here is Fjord, in the middle of the night, holding his own chest and suddenly so much less of a stranger. Here is Fjord dead in Caduceus’ arms. Here is--</p><p>Death is natural, he thinks to himself, death is the only promise in life, and death is beautiful. Death should be beautiful. And his stomach twists, and why would he disgrace Her and feel so wretchedly sick when he’s supposed to be a gentle handler of corpses, and--</p><p>“You missed the kitchen,” Beau says, and Caduceus looks up from the ground to find himself about to hit a wall, a hand grabbing his collar, so as to stop him. “Wanna have a panic attack together?”</p><p>“Maybe,” he says. “But first, tea.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>having a good time</p><p>comment, kudo, etc!</p><p>tumblr @yahooanswer</p></blockquote></div></div>
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